Jade
by albinofrog881
Summary: AU, darkfic. HB, HL, eventual LM another 'What if Luke were evil' fic. Basically one of those stories that doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but you just have to go with.
1. She is danger

**Prologue**

She is danger.

A rush of exhilaration, an enticing distraction. She is as likely to kiss him as kill him because she is as likely to do anything as anything else- she is a perfectly painted portrait of a beautiful woman only known by the lies she lived in public.

She isn't evil. That is all he knows of her soul. He suspects she could live out her entire life secretly saving thousands of lives, and she still wouldn't consider herself 'good', but he knows- somehow more strongly than he's known anything in a very long time- that she could never live out the rest of her life killing innocents.

He also knows in the same way that she _could_ kill him.

He is so drawn to her that he doesn't mind the risk of dying a horrible and painful death, and it scares the hell out of him. He isn't supposed to feel such things for someone he's only met in battle.

He isn't supposed to feel such things at all.

* * *

**A/N:** A plotbunny attacked, I couldn't resist. Please don't hate me.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Star Wars I wouldn't have to be wasting every waking minute worrying about colleges, applying to colleges, waiting around for N.Y.U's rejection letter (as I only have a 3.0), etc because if I owned Star Wars I'd be going to college President Bush style. Also, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction under this s/n because I would have kidnapped Hayden Christienson long ago, brainwashed him, and be living in an island somewhere in the middle of nowhere with him, having cut off all ties with my former life.

Clearly, I do not own Star Wars.


	2. She is careful

1. Jade

* * *

She is careful. 

Dressed in the garbs and the hair and the make-up of a dead woman, she meticulously lands her ship. If her information is correct, she will have landed close enough to the palace to show-up as a warning on the emperor's screen, but far enough away that he will not be bothered to send stormtroopers her way.

She suspects if her information was wrong, she and her ship wouldn't have been allowed to make it this far.

She carefully makes a show of checking her appearence in the reflection of a passing window and sighs satisfied that she made the right decision. Outside, she can see the well-renowned ship that she has come to meet containing a former lover.

Inside, she can see the lavendar eye liner and rose hair spray worked well. Her green eyes now sparkle with pebbles of jaded blue. Her red ringlets now shine with reflections of gold.

She is a walking portatrait ripe for the framing.

She exits the ship with a hand firmly on the bag containing her weapons. As expected her Corellian leans lightly againat his ship's hull awaiting her presence with his own hand planted firmly against the blaster in the holster at his hip. His own jaded eyes watch her survey him, the beginning of a smirk twitches his lips upwards.

"I told the kid to blast your ship into oblivion, but he said it'd be too much of a waste of weapons to use against a _woman_," the challenge in his voice is clear. "Now Solo! Is that any way to speak about the love of your life?" 

"You aren't the love of my life," he says decisively without humor. She surprises herself with the twinge she feels in her heart at his words. She had expected more from him, she realizes. From him, at least, she had expected humanity.

She swallows both out of necessity and out of ploy when she realizes a second thing. He wasn't joking about blowing up her shipand the force tells her it is true.

The hand she has on her bag tightens. She will not be deterred.

"Sith allow love? And here I thought I was the last of your victims to get her heart broken," she states with mock surprise.

She is rewarded with a ten second pause and an unreadable look in his eyes.

It is almost enough to make her believe the rumors that had been whispered and shushed throughout the ranks of the alliance for months. Almost, she thinks, but not quite. Most likely, he is also playing a part designed to make her stumble and question her footing.

The theory is confirmed when he turns to her with mirth sparkling in his eyes, and replies, "Here we're both right, Bria. I never loved _you_," he pauses with his trademark grin and a rakish glance down her body, "but I _did_ love the things you could do for me."

He kisses her with the passion of a man who seeks to lose himself in her kiss, and when that fails, in her body.

She recognizes its offer and quickly accepts: a chance to relieve stress and tension while also gaining both the access she needs, and the extra time she requires if she wants to complete her task and survive.

Later when she lies in his bed, however, she wonders just how sane she really is.

The moonlight lies directly on their faces through his open window and she has unsuccessfully been trying to get to sleep for hours, tossing and turning all the while with her eyes closed in case someone should be watching. He no doubt being used to the light shining through his window, lies peacefully beside her on his back with his arms flung to both sides, no doubt to better reach his weapons should he be awakened by any noise.

His arms coming to wrap suddenly around her then, surprises her. The Force tells her he is asleep. Feeling her still in his arms his hold tightens and she smothers her feeling of repulsion when he snuggles his head into her neck and sighs contentedly.

"I love you, Leia," he whispers to the dark.

But, or so the girl in his arms imagines, the dark whispered back of Leia Organa's death weeks ago, because his arms tighten even further around her and she is even further shocked to feel wetness falling onto her upturned face.

In the morning she convinces herself it was all a dream brought on by stress, and goes about her actions as planned. With any luck, she thinks, the man who killed her Queen and general should soon be dead.


	3. He is the enemy

**A/N:** I wrote this bit of chapter a while back, but then never managed to get back to it. Originally I planned to write more, but at this point I think it stands better on its own. Hopefully I'll have another update soon.

* * *

Interlude: Skywalker

He is the enemy.

In _their_ eyes. In everyone's eyes.

He's known this for a while now, he's _accepted_ this for a while now, but sometimes he sees the corpse's face in dreams, and-

…he is the enemy in his own eyes too.

And he doesn't even know who she is, but his heart hurts when he thinks of what her looks might imply…

He awakens bathed in the sweat of someone who has something to lose, and has seen its loss play out in excruciating, vivid detail behind the gauze of a normal dream…and he doesn't even know who she is, but for the first time in years he feels guilty.

His _mother_ the force tells him, but like always the stray thought is pushed aside. He knows he has no mother. He is a product of the force itself, and like the test-tubed clones he has never been in a woman's womb.

He _is_ the chosen one, isn't he? Isn't he?

But he won't let himself go down that path of questioning. He can't.

Questioning his birth is dangerous.

It would ultimately lead to the questioning of semantics he can tell he isn't yet ready to face.

So instead when his meal is delivered by a bumbling fool of a stormtrooper who spills soup in his lap, he practices his chokehold.

He smiles as the man's corpse slides onto his bed.

Perhaps it was childish, but there was nothing that made him feel better than an effortless and pointless kill.

The snuffing of a force signature. The unraveling of endless threads.

It was intoxicating.

It was the power to control destiny.

It was the power to control the Force, and bend it to his will.

He got up and got dressed quickly.

Today was looking to be a long day, and not just because he was gonna need a better explanation than spilt soup to justify the body lying awkwardly across his bed.


End file.
